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Just when you think you've seen it all, Mother Nature surprises you

GROWING EDGES

Now and then, Mother Nature brings me to my knees, and shows me that while I may have seen a lot of her violence and her beauty in my lifetime, I haven’t seen it all!

I’ve been traveling through northern New Mexico all of my life. When I was a child, I lived in Albuquerque, and as an adult, I have been in Santa Fe or traveling through the area almost every year. I thought I had seen all there was to see of the area, but was I ever wrong!

On a whim, I chose to see Abiquiu and the surrounding area loved by artist Georgia O’Keeffe. Earlier, it was just too far off the beaten road, or we were in a hurry.

Leaving Colorado, I enjoyed the beauty of the mountains. Headed south from Chama, I exclaimed over the cloud formations and the big blue sky of northern New Mexico as I always do, but the truth is that I’ve seen all of that many times.

Suddenly, however, something ahead we had neither seen nor imagined caught our attention. Tall and spectacular cliffs that went on for miles captivated us. Seemingly lit from within by the afternoon sun, we were dazzled by the reds, yellows, grays and brown of what appeared to be layers of the earth that grew more dramatic as we drove.

The dramatic shapes of those formations had been there for millions of years, I was to learn, but I’d almost missed them.

Home to Indians long ago, those cliffs and formations, called Piedras Lumbres, “shining stones”, have drawn geologists, paleontologists, explorers and artists to the area for centuries. Whatever I expected, I could never have imagined such beauty and magnificence.

That those formations were so close to where we had traveled so often was humbling to me. “I thought I knew this area,” I said, realizing that I knew only what I had seen before.

The first time I saw my first over-the-top, blazing West Texas sunset is burned in my memory.

I remember my father’s delight when I stood spellbound upon seeing the ocean for the first time. He pushed me to step into the wave and feel both the water cover my feet, and the wet sand sink under my footprint.

“Taste the salt on your lips,” he told me. “Smell the sea breeze!”

Bewitched by the Mediterranean Sea as an adult, I took every chance to gaze at it, hoping I could absorb that particular blue in my memory. “It’s no wonder artists flock to this area,” I told my traveling friends. “Who wouldn’t want to capture this blue and take it home?”

I was brought up to appreciate nature’s wonders, from the most delicate wildflower or rose to the high mountain peaks and rushing waterfalls. I was taught to keep awe and wonder alive in my consciousness, and that is one of the greatest gifts my parents gave me.

Even with that, however, the truth is that my venture through the Chama Canyon Wilderness reminded me how easy it is to get complacent and lose the ability to be surprised or dazzled by something new. It’s easy to become jaded by the world. It’s easy to think you have seen it all just because you have seen a part of it all. It’s easy to take nature for granted.

It’s tempting, too, to assume that the tiny bit of the world we’ve seen or the area in which we live qualifies us to speak with authority about the world, but compared to all that there is to know, each of us sees only a part of the world. Until we die, we humans always see in part and we see through a glass darkened by inexperience, ignorance or pride.

I’ve read about God all of my life. I’ve heard great theologians speak about God. It’s tempting to assume that what little bit I know about God qualifies me to speak for God.

The truth is that when it comes to knowing about God, human beings and the universe, I will always be a beginner. I can speak about what I do know about God, but, I’ll never know enough to speak for God.

God and Mother Nature always have a surprise waiting around an unknown corner.

Jeanie Miley, a former San Angelo resident, is an inspirational author and speaker. Her column appears Saturdays. Email her at jeaniemiley19@aol.com.